About Operation White Christmas
No one expects to find love in the middle of a snowstorm.
Hollie Douglas has always dreamed of a white Christmas: carolers, pudding, chestnuts roasting on an open fire. But in her dreams, she shared that fire's hearth with a husband, and two months before her big day, her fiancé broke her heart and left.
Now, determined to go ahead with her honeymoon anyway, Hollie's plans are going awry. It's the day before Christmas Eve and she is stuck in the middle of a snowstorm in rural Canada. Thankfully, luck is on her side.
When Jim Bell braved a snowstorm to search for one of his orphaned animals, he didn't expect he'd be rescuing a stranded Australian tourist too. A widower, Jim has been dreading another Christmas without his wife, and he wonders if offering the stranded Hollie shelter is something he can bear.
Jim quickly realizes Hollie is carrying as much emotional baggage as him. But as he helps Hollie fulfil her dream of a white Christmas, the winter wonderland and spirit of Christmas may yet work their healing magic on both of them.
A sweet Christmas romance in the tradition of Melissa McClone and Alissa Callen.
Contents
About Operation White Christmas: An Escape to the Country Novella
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Acknowledgments
About Nicki Edwards
Also by Nicki Edwards
Copyright
For the Bell, Gastle and Borovskis families for making my white Christmas dream come true.
Chapter 1
It was going to be the perfect romantic evening. Hollie Douglas felt it in her bones.
Eight years. Eight years!
She checked off the list in her head. Candles, yes. Seductive music, yes. Chilled white wine, yes. Tick, tick, tick. Even the spring weather was cooperating. It was warm enough they would be able to sit outside on the back deck and eat dinner. Even better, the slight breeze was keeping the mozzies at bay, which was good, because Steve was allergic to mosquitoes.
She’d planned everything. From his favorite beef and red wine casserole simmering on the stove, to the fresh sheets on the bed, to the Calvin Klein perfume he’d given her for her twenty-fifth birthday, which she’d dabbed on her pulse points. She gazed around the lounge room. Everything was ready. She sighed with pleasure. Marking occasions was important to Hollie and tonight she’d thought of everything.
Tonight was going to be perfect.
Unlike the last few years.
She scowled as she recalled their seventh anniversary. She’d had to work a late shift at the hospital and found Steve snoring on the couch when she arrived home. The year before she had the flu. The year before that Steve was away at a conference. And the year before that? She racked her memory but had no idea how they’d celebrated. One year – was it their third or fourth anniversary? – they’d had a fancy dinner at a restaurant in Sydney. Before their entrées were served a water pipe burst in the street and the entire restaurant had to be evacuated. They ended up eating at McDonald’s. She shuddered at the memory. She hated Macca’s, but when she’d suggested they find another restaurant Steve carried on about how late it was and how he just wanted to get home.
A funny cold feeling slithered down her spine and she shook her head to clear the unpleasant memories. If she were the kind of woman to get paranoid over such things, she’d say celebrating their anniversary was a doomed occasion. But not this year. The stars were aligned. Or the candles at least.
She lit the final candle as she heard his car pull up. Standing back, she examined her handiwork. Perfect. She turned off the lights and her eyes took a moment to adjust to the flickering flames. Everything was perfect. Absolutely perfect.
She and Steve had started dating eight years earlier, back in their final year at school, and tonight was the last time they’d celebrate their “dating” anniversary. In two months they’d be married and there would be a new occasion to celebrate every year.
“Have we lost power?” Steve shouted as the front door slammed behind him. “Hollie?”
She walked toward him in the semi-dark. “No.”
“Then what’s with all the candles?”
She moistened her lips. Surely he hadn’t forgotten. “It’s to celebrate.”
He sighed as he loosened his tie, undid his top button and pecked her on the cheek. “What are we celebrating this time?”
“Our anniversary.”
“Oh man, is that today?”
He flopped onto the couch, kicked off his shoes, swung his legs up onto the coffee table and pressed the remote control for the television, all in one well-practiced move.
Hollie bit back a rude retort. “You knew it was tonight. It’s been in your diary for weeks.” And it should have been in your head for years. Eight years to be precise. Why did she have to remind him Every. Single. Year?
He ran his hands over his close-cropped hair and exhaled. “Hollie, do you know what night it is tonight?”
She frowned. Other than their anniversary, she had no idea.
He exhaled and the room reeked of exasperation. “It’s the Brownlow.”
“Oh.”
She flopped beside him on the couch. She had no interest in football but she should have remembered. The Brownlow medal was for the best and fairest player in the AFL. It was a big night where all the football players dressed in expensive suits, and the WAGS – a selection of vacuous anorexic Wives and Girlfriends – dressed in even more expensive barely-there gowns, fake tans and loaned jewels. Steve had grown up in Victoria and even though he’d moved to New South Wales as a teenager, he never caught the rugby bug – Australian Rules Football was too deeply ingrained in his DNA. She should have known better than to interrupt anything footy-related.
Steve dropped his head on the back of the couch. “I’m heading over to Chappie’s house to watch it. I’m sure I told you.”
She slid closer and laid a hand on his thigh. “What time does it start? We could still have dinner first. You need to eat.”
“What I need is a shower.” He sprang from the couch and headed in the direction of their bedroom.
Not knowing what else to do, Hollie got up, went into the kitchen, checked the dinner on the stove and poured herself a glass of wine. She was bringing the glass to her lips when Steve’s phone buzzed. It was probably Will Chappell reminding Steve to bring beer. She made a dive for the phone as it stopped ringing. She frowned at the screen. Missed call from Beck.
Beck who?
The phone rang again and she swiped her thumb across the screen and answered. “Steve Marks’ phone.”
Silence.
“Hello?” Hollie repeated.
“Oh, hi, is Steve there?” The deep, throaty voice on the other end sounded like the woman had a cold.
“He’s not available at the moment. Can I pass on a message?”
“Um. No that’s okay. I’ll call him again later.”
The call ended, leaving Hollie with a funny sour taste in her mouth.
Steve returned while she was sitting there holding his phone in her hands. Gone was the striped suit, crisp white business shirt and silk tie, replaced by perfectly ironed chino pants and a checked shirt. He didn’t even look at her as he buttoned up the cuffs of his shirt sleeves.
“Sorry Holli
e. I can see you’ve gone to a lot of trouble, but it’s the Brownlow. We can celebrate another night.”
“Who’s Beck?”
Steve’s hand stilled at his wrist and his face blanched.
Like someone was slowly running an ice cube down her spine, Hollie shivered. Surely Steve wasn’t cheating on her. The hairs on her arms rose as goose bumps erupted.
“Who is Beck,” she repeated slowly.
“She’s just a work colleague from the Sydney office,” he replied calmly.
“I didn’t know you had much to do with the Sydney office anymore.”
He finished buttoning the cuff, still hadn’t met her eyes. When he finally looked at her, really looked at her, fixed her with his “this-is-serious-Hollie” look, she knew the words she was about to hear weren’t the words she wanted to hear. She tried to breathe but her chest was strapped tighter than a bride in a wedding corset, as though there wasn’t enough room for her lungs to expand.
Steve ran one hand across his smooth jaw and exhaled heavily. “Oh jeez, Hollie. I didn’t want it to be like this.”
A sudden fluttering feeling in her chest made her want to sit down. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Surely any second he would laugh and tell her he was joking.
A wave of despair washed over her because she knew he wouldn’t do that. Steve Marks never joked, because Steve Marks was an accountant and everyone knew accountants didn’t have a sense of humor.
“I’m sorry, Hollie, I can’t do this anymore.”
“Do what?”
“This.” He indicated the candles. “This romance stuff. You put so much pressure on me to live up to these romantic notions in your head. It’s not me. I don’t remember dates and occasions and anniversaries. They’re not important to me. I literally don’t care whether it’s been eight months or eight years.”
The words were heat-seeking missiles straight to the center of her heart. They hit before she had a chance to put her defenses in place.
“What are you saying?”
He sighed heavily. “I—” He spread his arms in a conquered gesture. “I guess I’m saying I don’t want to marry you anymore.”
She gripped her elbows to stop from reaching out to him. She wanted to shake him. Force him to take the words back. Her lower lip trembled and wobbled and as much as she did not want to cry, she knew it was inevitable. She always cried when she was emotional. She tried to trap the sob in the back of her throat but was unsuccessful and the tears slid down her cheeks.
“What? You guess you don’t want to marry me?”
He was silent as he finally looked at her.
She narrowed her eyes as understanding dropped like a boulder to the bottom of her belly. “Are you having an affair?” Her voice rose on the last word like an opera-singing soprano reaching the crescendo.
Steve’s Adam’s apple bobbed once before he opened his mouth to speak.
Hollie held up one hand. “Don’t answer that. I’d rather not know so spare me the details.”
She twisted her white gold half-carat diamond engagement ring from her finger and threw it at him.
To his credit, he didn’t flinch when it hit him in the chest. “Hollie—”
“Get out, Steve.” She pointed to the front door.
“But this is my place too.”
She glared at him. “Do you think I care about that right now?”
“Where the hell am I supposed to go?”
Hands on her hips she glared at him. “Oh I don’t know, maybe after you get pissed with the blokes watching the Brownlow tonight you can fall asleep on Chappie’s couch. Or maybe you can see if Beck’s happy to have you in her bed.” She tossed him his phone and marched to the front door, flinging it open. “Get out!”
“But what about my stuff?”
His whining was worse than fingernails down a blackboard.
“You can come over tomorrow while I’m at work.”
He still didn’t move.
“Steve, get out!”
The sense of satisfaction as she slammed the door shut behind him was like nothing she had ever experienced before.
Chapter 2
The euphoric feeling lasted precisely two-point-six seconds before Hollie’s legs buckled beneath her and she slumped to the floor. Was she an idiot? Was she stupid? Was she totally blind? How had she not seen the signs?
Her phone vibrated in the back pocket of her jeans.
If that’s Steve I’ll—
“What?” she growled, not bothering to check who was calling.
“Whoa! How to win friends and influence people. What’s up with you?” It was Mackenzie.
Despite a thirteen-year age difference, Mackenzie Kennedy-Jones was one of Hollie’s closest friends. The two women were nurses in the emergency department at the Birrangulla Base Hospital and had met when Hollie started working there a year earlier.
“Steve and I broke up.”
Hollie heard her friend’s sharp intake of breath then a shuffling sound. “Do not move! I’m on my way. Give me five minutes.”
“Thanks Kenz.”
Hollie smiled despite her pain. That was such a Mackenzie thing to say. Do not move. Do not pass Go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. She was a good friend, a great matron of honor and right now she was exactly who Hollie needed.
Dragging herself up off the floor, Hollie shuffled to the kitchen and found her still-full glass of wine on the bench. The wine was warm, but she didn’t care. She downed the entire glass before going to the fridge for the rest of the bottle. The wine glug-glugged from the bottle, spilling over the top of her glass and splashing onto the benchtop. For once, she was not going to wipe up the mess. She grabbed the bottle and her glass and headed back to the lounge. The first thing to hit her were the flickering flames of the candles. She stomped around the room, blowing them out one by one until she’d extinguished them all. All one hundred of them. She wrinkled her nose at the smell and fanned the smoky air.
A screeching alarm startled her. She swore under her breath. Great. Now she’d set the smoke detectors off. She ran to the kitchen, grabbed a tea towel and frantically waved it beneath the screaming box on the ceiling. If she didn’t get it shut off, the neighbors would come running. Firsthand experience with burned toast had taught her that lesson.
Seconds later the shrill sound mercifully ceased and she collapsed on the couch and shut her eyes. Her throat closed over and she began to cry in earnest.
*
“He is a Total. And. Utter. Jerk,” Mackenzie announced after they’d hugged and Hollie had let out the rest of her tears, leaving a wet stain on Mackenzie’s shoulder. Hollie reached for her wine glass. The back of her throat was scratchy from crying.
Mackenzie grabbed the glass first and slid it away. “You don’t need wine, sweetie, you need coffee. There’s no point getting drunk because of Scumbag Steve. You’ll only regret it tomorrow and tomorrow you need to be thinking straight.”
“What for?”
“It’s going to be a busy day. You have lots to do.”
“Like what?”
“Like cancel a wedding.”
Hollie sighed and dropped her head into her hands. “Oh God, how embarrassing.” Her vision began to blur again.
“Uh-uh, that’s enough tears,” Mackenzie commanded. “Are you supposed to be working in the morning?”
Hollie nodded.
Mackenzie grabbed her phone. “I’m calling work and canceling your shift.”
Hollie tried to snatch the phone back. “You can’t do that!”
“I can. And I will.”
“But I don’t want to be here tomorrow. I told Steve he could come and take his stuff.”
“You won’t be here,” Mackenzie said. “You’re coming to my place. You can stay in our spare room until you work things out.”
Hollie pinched the bridge of her nose. “I don’t want to put you and Nathan out.” After almost two years of marriage and no babies yet, Mackenzie had re
cently finished another unsuccessful round of IVF and she’d confided that Nathan was struggling.
Mackenzie rolled her eyes. “Isn’t that what friends are for?”
Ten minutes later Mackenzie had sorted everything in her usual efficient way.
“Now, what’s for dinner? Something smells amazing and I’m starving.”
Hollie managed a brief smile. “I’m surprised you can smell anything over the smoke.”
“Yeah, well I was going to ask until I noticed all the candles.” Mackenzie screwed up her face. “Bit OTT wasn’t it?”
Hollie rolled her own eyes. “Probably way over the top but I wanted it to be romantic. I saw it on Pinterest and thought it was a good idea.” Tears pricked her eyes again and she blinked them away. “I feel like such an idiot. I never saw it coming.”
Mackenzie reached over to hug Hollie tightly. “You’re not the idiot. He is.”
“You never liked him.”
“Steve’s an alright guy, but that doesn’t mean he was right for you.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“It’s not the kind of thing the matron of honor is supposed to say to someone who’s been with the same guy since high school and is getting married in two months.”
The world seemed to slow down as the realization of what had happened hit afresh. Hollie ran her hands through her hair. “How am I going to tell Mum and Dad?”
“Your parents love you. They will understand. In fact, knowing your mum she’ll make it her personal mission to cancel everything herself and save you the stress. Your dad will probably want to go after Steve with a cricket bat.”
Mackenzie was right. Her mum would go into rescue mode, which was the last thing Hollie wanted, and her dad would be furious with Steve, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly.
“That shouldn’t be Mum’s job.”
“So, tomorrow morning we get on the phone and we start making calls.” Mackenzie rifled through her bag and found a pen and a scrap of paper. “First things first. We need to make a list. A plan.”
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